


Baby Bird, I'll Hold Your Wings

by evergreen_melancholy



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Blow Jobs, First Time Blow Jobs, Injured Mario, M/M, Marco is possessive, Miroslav is a pacifist, Thomas/Miroslav if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-04
Updated: 2014-07-04
Packaged: 2018-02-07 09:40:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1894305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evergreen_melancholy/pseuds/evergreen_melancholy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It really wasn't something in Marco's control; a scrimmage game goes wrong, Mario gets injured, and Marco is pissed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Baby Bird, I'll Hold Your Wings

**Author's Note:**

> Because my friend had said, "how possessive would Marco be if Mario got hurt?"
> 
> And this happened. And also, Thomas/Miro if you squint.

Title: Baby Bird, I'll Hold Your Wings  
Summary: It really wasn't something in Marco's control; a scrimmage game goes wrong, Mario gets injured, and Marco gets pissed.  
Rating: R  
Warnings: Kissing, yeah. And cussing. And some suggestiveness.  
Disclaimer: This is purely FICTION and not intended to be offensive or derogatory in any way to Marco Reus or Mario Götze. I do not own them. This is only fiction.  


_*_

_Fly high, baby bird of mine,_

_I'll catch you should you fall._

_Fly high, you're so divine,_

_I'll be there should you call._

*  
  
Marco is _pissed._  
  
Marco usually is calm--he gives no sign of his emotion and holds a wonderful pokerface. Mario's the only who can read him like the back of his hand, and the team knows that. So when Löw informs them that they will have a scrimmage game within the team, it's only natural that the two immediately hook elbows and start heading to their side of the field (which earns a few eyebrow raises, because the team doesn't know that they're _practically_ fucking.) And not that Mario's aware of Marco's hand quickly skimming his side, warm and firm, promising a lot _more than just a touch_ later.  
  
And not that Mario is _totally_ caught off-guard when Marco's fingers quickly brushes his before the game starts, either.  
  
*  
  
The scrimmage game starts out easy; Thomas, Bastian, and Tony are all on Marco's team. There's no way they could lose. Thomas knows too, because he's Thomas, and he understands the 'Götzeus' duo better than anyone else on the team. But then, Marco also notices the way Thomas' mouth twitches downwards a little when he sees that he's not on the same team as Miroslav. He feels Thomas’ disappointment, he knows the youth respects their Co-Captain so much that it borders on obsession—even affection. But Marco understands the feeling all too well, when someone you care about is so close, yet so far. When Mario was away at Bayern Munich, Marco seriously wallowed in depression for a few days—weeks. Months. The spot next to his in the locker room was replaced by Bastian's ass, which, after much observance, was not as nice as Mario's. The seat next to his on buses and planes were also too empty--Marco hated the quietness of everything. There was no smile to brighten his day; no hair to ruffle.  
  
And then, as if on cue, he's jolted out of his trance when Mario pokes his ribs, and speeds past him in an attempt to wrestle the ball from Miroslav's feet. Marco watches Mario's face scrunch in concentration as he sprints to keep up with their Co-Captain, and see's the trademark smile of his flash for a second. In a few seconds, Mario has taken possession of the ball, and Marco grins.  
  
He sprints to the side of the field where Mario is, and Löw smiles in his seat, because yes, Götzeus will take them to the Finals.  
  
When Mario passes the ball, Marco is there to meet him. Together, they speed by André, and Mats, who curses under his breath. Marco passes the ball to Mario, and there's a flash of yellow as Manuel dives for it—Mario's shot is reflected, but Marco swiftly intercepts the counter and forces the ball in with his head.  
  
Thomas is jumping for joy, Bastian is standing and smiling, Löw is clapping, and Mario—Mario's smile is all worth it.  
  
*  
  
It's the second half of the game where everything crumbles into pieces. Marco isn't going to point fingers or say names, but it was totally Thomas' fault—he was entirely far too soft on Miroslav. Not that Miroslav even notices, because despite his age, he still kicks about half the team's ass at just about everything.  
  
Marco isn't blaming Thomas though, and he really wants Thomas to know that. Marco isn't even sure how it happened—all he remembers is that Thomas couldn't steal the ball from Miroslav, and Miroslav was getting dangerously close to their goal—he sees Bastian creep up on Miroslav's right, and he recognizes the look on their faces. Miroslav has the look of determination, the look that brought some of their best goals in the World Cup. Bastian has the look, the look that signals that Bastian is _serious,_ and Marco watches as the two wrestle their feet in a tangle for the ball, and suddenly, there's a flash of white and black in his peripheral—he sees Mats, and Tony, and the scuffle is entirely too large, and—no, no, Mario, don't go in—  
  
Marco hears a shout from Bastian, sees a kick from Mats, and feels his heart drop when Mario falls and tumbles on the pitch, clutching his left leg tightly.  
  
Before he can stop himself, he's already running and shouting for the medical team, one fist held out to punch Mats.  
  
*  
  
Mario's the youngest one on the team. He still doesn't have full understandings of everyone on the team, all he knows is that Miroslav is way too gentle to be German, has twins, is as amazing as he was so many years ago. Mario also understands that Thomas is just as amazingly talented, but also young. Thomas is 2 years older than Mario, yet still as immature. Mario understands that Miroslav also has all the youngsters on the team worshipping him (Mario admits that he did so once, too), and even though everyone sees it, Thomas doesn't admit to it. He calls it "admiration and respect" for their Co-Captain.  
  
Mats calls it being a homewrecker, because Miroslav has a wife, and twins, and Thomas…well.  
  
What Mario does fully understand, though, is Marco.  
  
 _Marco._  
  
It's true--if anyone mentions Marco in the locker room, or on the field, Mario's ears turn slightly pink. Mario is also very obvious, in body language and spoken language. When asked about Marco, Mario stutters, looks down, and has a blush creeping up the side of his neck. The team often exposes this, but only when Marco is not there, because Marco is possessive _as fuck_. If Marco is in the vicinity, no one's allowed to touch Mario, look at Mario, or talk to Mario. If Marco is in the vicinity, 75% of the time, his hand is around Mario's shoulder, or pressed hotly against his neck.  
  
Of course, Mario doesn't mind. Mario just finds it hard to control himself with Marco in the vicinity, because Marco has this one look, where he smiles that crooked smile of his, and Mario can see his dimple slice his cheek in half, and then there's the raise of an eyebrow--  
  
It takes about 30 seconds with Marco and his look near him for him to get half-hard. After 30 seconds, Marco's hands are usually pressed against him, warm and strong, and then all Marco has to do is whisper into Mario's ear and that's all it takes for Mario to get painfully hard.  
  
And then, later on, when he changes out of his uniform, he has to do it in the bathroom, because he jerks off to keep himself in check.  
  
 _Of course_ he thinks of Marco the whole time.  
  
*  
  
Mario's often dubbed "Little Bird" by his team, because that's exactly what he is--he's young, and innocent, and wild. _Free_. Mario laughs and chirps and sings everywhere--the nickname fits perfectly. When they warm-up, Mario still has his hands inside his sleeves, like a little kid and Marco just gives him this look, like he's the most precious thing in the world. The look is filled with a soft, pure gentleness and Mario just wants to blush and hide, because Marco's eyes convey his emotions so well, and if he keeps looking at Mario like that, Mario's pretty sure he's going to melt right there on the pitch.  
  
He remembers when Marco stopped calling him 'Mar', and moved on to 'Liebe' instead. (Liebe is German for 'love', Mario knows that because he googled it later, just to make sure.) The team, of course, raised their eyebrows at this, but said nothing. Well, most of them anyway. Mats cackled, Phillip choked on his water, and Bastian curled his lips up slightly. Mario wasn't even sure when it had started--one day, he was fine with 'Mar', and then the next day, after he had a nasty scrape on his inner wrist, Marco looked at him with those eyes, as if asking for permission to inspect the wound.  
  
"You can," Mario says, stupidly. "Look at it, the--the scrape, I mean."  
  
And Marco does. He delicately holds Mario's wrist, and gently turns it in his hands to get a better look. Mario swallows hard because that was the first time he noticed how long Marco's fingers were, and his mind was running to other places, and--  
  
Marco fucking holds his wrist up to his face and _kisses_ the scrape, and _oh god_ , _licks_ the blood away, and then kisses Mario's knuckles.  
  
Mario's face is about the same color as Manuel's red uniform, and Marco smiles softly.  
  
"Be careful, Liebe," Marco says, voice steady and gentle.  
  
*  
  
Mario opens his eyes, and looks away from the sun. Well, the setting sun--the day's almost over, hell, the game was almost over, but he didn't even know what hit him. He just wanted to hurry up and steal the ball from Miroslav so that they could end the whole thing already. He didn't expect Tony and Mats to sprint so closely behind him, and he sure as hell didn't expect to get caught between the giants of the team, either.  
  
Bastian's already fucking huge, and so was Mats, and Mario knows that it was a bad idea once he sees Mats blindly kick for the ball. Mats' foot collides with his ankle, along with Bastian's, and Mario has never felt so much pain in one leg in his entire career as a soccer player.  
  
He falls, closes his eyes, and tries not to think about the pain--but it's too much, it really is too much, and he's just hurting so much, and Mario swears that he's going crazy, because all these memories are rushing into him, and there's Marco in his mind, Marco, who Mario doesn't want to see him like this, because Mario hates being weak. Mario also knows that Marco most likely will end up beating the shit out of Mats, because Marco was just that protective of him.  
  
He tries to stand up, but a hot, fierce pain shoots up his leg and hell no, Mario can't be injured, not _like this_ , not by his own teammates. But Mario is, and he really can't move because of the pain, and he can only close his eyes and try to think about a happy place.  
  
It feels like forever, but Mario knows it's only been a few seconds--voices surround him, he smells an intermingle of scents that range from deodorant to sweat, and the stale, lifeless smell of bandages and alcohol. A warm hand ghosts beneath his arms, and another ghosts beneath his knees, and Mario twitches. He feels so tired; feels so heavy and useless, and just wants to cry because he never wanted to get hurt this way, not like this. Not by his own teammates, not in _a scrimmage_ game with Finals in a few weeks. But then, Mario also hears a familiar voice, panicked but soft, and he relaxes instantly because Marco is here.  
  
Of course, Marco gets to him earlier than the other players, and Mario feels relieved and self-conscious at the same time. He never wanted Marco to see him so weak; not like this. _In bed, totally_ , but not on the field, when Mario is all too vulnerable to everyone around him. He feels Marco's hand stroke his cheek, and then Marco says something, but Mario can't hear through the pain. He does open his eyes though, and sees a pained face on Marco; it's a look that'll haunt Mario for days, because Marco looks so broken, so frustrated, and so heartbroken. Mario really wants to cry now, and Marco can see, because he slips a hand under Mario and balances him on his knee, so that Mario can at least see his surroundings better.  
  
Mario blushes under Marco's sad gaze, and tries to give a smile of reassurance. Marco's eyes crinkle again, and Mario sees them convey strong feelings of worry and anger, and Marco's entire face is just focused on Mario, _and Mario just--he just can't keep it in, with all the pain and distress in him._  
  
"This sucks," Mario says. He laughs, tries to push it off. "I got impatient."  
  
Marco shakes his head, and touches Mario's cheek.   
  
"I'm sorry, Liebe," Marco says, softly. "I should've been there to keep you from going in."  
  
And with that, and Marco's blame on himself, Mario begins to cry, and tries to blame it on the medical team wrapping his leg too tightly.  
  
*  
  
Marco watches as they carry Mario away on a stretcher, neck craning all the way until Mario disappears from sight. When he does, Marco whips around, and heads straight for his teammates, eyes focused on Mats. Löw senses a scuffle and gets up from his seat, but he isn't fast enough; Marco has already reached Mats and taps his shoulder. The rest of the team cuts off into a deafening silence once they see Marco, and they automatically step away once Mats turns around.   
  
" _What the fuck was that_ ," Marco shouts, voice full of anger. "You didn't have to blindly kick if you couldn't _see_ the fucking ball!"  
  
"Look, sorry man," Mats says, one hand rubbing the back of his neck. "I really didn't mean to hurt Mar, I really didn't. It just... _happened_."  
  
Before Löw can shout, before Miroslav can calm them, Marco's fist connects with Mats' jaw, and Mats is on the floor, clutching his mouth. Marco takes a quick glance to see that he is bleeding, and feels satisfied. He steps forward to Mats, and sneers at him.  
  
"So if I punched you like that," Marco says cruelly, "it _'just happened'_ , right?"  
  
"Look man, what the hell was that fo--"   
  
"You hurt Mario," Marco says seriously. "Be glad I'm not doing what you did to his leg."  
  
And as if to prove a point, Marco taps one foot on Mat's ankle, and kicks it lightly. Marco knows he's being cruel, but Mats deserved it. Mats had always annoyed him anyway; he found if funny when he cockblocked him and Mario, and confined to do so on a daily basis. Marco felt a sick satisfaction in finally giving him a good punch...that is, until Löw stepped in, and slapped him square in the face.   
  
It wasn't a hard slap, but still a slap, and one from Löw meant that Marco was in some deep shit.  
  
Löw didn't even need to look at Marco, and Marco already knew to lower his head. Miroslav gives their coach a look, and he nods, and Miroslav steps forward and touches Marco's shoulder lightly. Marco supposed that a lecture from the co-captain was better than a lecture from his coach, who really could get physical at times. Miroslav doesn't offer any words of scorn, however. He simply looks Marco in the eye, and shakes his head.   
  
"Anger cheats us," Miroslav says seriously. "We should not act on emotion, we should think. I know Mario is important to you--"  
  
At this, everyone coughs, but Miroslav sends them a look and they quiet down again.  
  
"I know Mario is important to you," Miroslav starts again. "But injuries happen, and Mats did not deserve what you did to him. Marco, you must control your anger."  
  
Miroslav lets go of his shoulder, and looks down at Mats, and looks at Marco, with an eyebrow raised. Marco sighs, and gives Mats his hand, and pulls him off the ground.  
  
"I'm sorr--" Mats starts, but Marco cuts him off.  
  
"No, I am sorry," Marco says, and bows to Mats. "For everything."  
  
Mats doesn't really know what to say, just runs the back of his head again, and nods, and Miroslav, with a satisfied look in his eye, nods, and looks to Löw. He nods as well, and raises his hand. Practice is over, albeit ended in a shitty way.  
  
The others bundle by Marco awkwardly and mumble wishes they send to Mario, and Marco nods, and simply gathers up his belongings as fast as possible.   
  
He slings his and Mario's bags over his shoulder and sprints to the locker room.  
  
*  
  
When he enters their room, Mario is in bed, staring out the window. Marco sees his cast poking out from under the blankets, and tries not to get angry at Mats once again. Marco drops their bags on the table, and gently knocks on the wall. Mario shifts, turns, sees Marco, and smiles tiredly.   
  
"Practice end early?" He says, and Marco can hear the pain drip through his voice. He winces as he watches Mario fail at trying to turn completely.  
  
"Yeah, it ended," Marco says.   
  
After a period of silence, Marco says, "...does if hurt?"  
  
Mario looks away, and nods. Marco steps closer, and kneels by the bed so that he is eye-level with Mario.   
  
"It _wasn't_ Mats' fault," Mario says, and looks at Marco. "Please don't get worked up."  
  
Marco offers a smile. "Too late, I already decked him in the mouth," Marco says. Mario gives him a surprised look.  
  
"Man, why would you do that?! Did Löw kill you?"   
  
"No, he didn't, he just slapped me," Marco says, and points to a slightly red area on his right cheek. Mario's expression turns downcast, and he bundles himself tighter in the blankets.   
  
"But Miro gave me a lecture instead, so that was okay," Marco finishes. Mario still looks down, away from Marco's eyes. Marco knows that Mario, for some reason, most likely feels guilty about the whole situation.   
  
Marco inches closer, until he can rest his arms on the bed. His knees are wiping the floor, but he doesn't care.  
  
"Liebe," Marco whispers, and Mario looks up at him, eyes wet.  
  
"Don't cry," Marco whispers, and his hand cups Mario's cheek, and brings him closer. He stops when Mario hisses in pain, and sighs.  
  
"I hate being injured, you can't do _shit_ ," Mario fumes. Then, a blush creeps up his neck, and he says, "...I, uh, I kinda wanted you--"  
  
Marco pulls himself up on the bed and simply sits next to Mario, and runs a few fingers through his hair. Mario gulps, and continues.  
  
"Well, I, uh, _kinda_ wanted you to," Mario stutters, and never finishes the sentence, because Marco's hands are massaging his leg softly, and it feels _really good._  
  
"Wanted me to _what_?" Marco asks, hands sliding higher and higher up Mario's legs. Mario swallows, shudders slightly, and looks up at Marco.  
  
"I wanted you to take me tonight," Mario says, eyes looking to the side. "But then _this_ happened, and I'm sorry you got in trouble."  
  
Marco's eyes soften and focus on Mario, and his hands ghost over Mario's hips, and pause to softly massage the skin there. Mario's breath hitches, and Marco brings his hands up a little higher, and plays with the hem of Mario's muscle shirt.  
  
"I could still take you," Marco says slowly, and watches Mario gulp and squirm under his gaze. "I could still take you, gently, like the first time." Marco's hands slip under Mario's shirt, and they softly caress Mario's sides, slowing down to ghost along his hipbones. Mario whimpers, and Marco smiles.  
  
"Or," Marco whispers, leaning closer in to Mario's face. " _I could probably still take you with just my hands and mouth._ "   
  
And Mario really can't keep up, because Mario's hands are now stroking the curve of his hipbones and tracing along the lines of his abs, and after what Marco just said, Mario just wants to grab Marco and tell him, _yes, please, take me however you want._  
  
Mario stares at Marco's mouth, and licks his own lips.  
  
" _Kiss me_ ," he forces out, and Marco leans in.   
  
"Happy to oblige," Marco whispers, and he lowers his lips on to Mario's.  
  
They kiss gently at first--Marco's lips are soft and subtle; kissing along Mario's, along the corners of his mouth, and along his jawline. Then, Mario pulls Marco on top of him, and then there's teeth clacking together, and Marco opens his mouth and turns to the side, and the angle is perfect, and Mario can only keep down a moan as Marco slips his tongue in and curls it along with Mario's. They make out for a while, until Mario breaks away and gasps for air, and Marco begins peppering kisses down his throat, stopping to lick across his throat and collarbone. Mario practically groans as Marco sucks a possessive bruise into the juncture of his neck--it doesn't really matter to him, anyway. That bruise will last a few days, and he'll get teased in the locker room, but Mario will get to look at the bruise and remember that Marco's lips were there.   
  
He remembers when Marco first laid a possessive bruise onto his collarbone--Mario had to wear a turtle neck for days, and everyone on the team snickered at Mario, because really, it was obvious. Him and Marco showed up to practice late, Mario often had sex hair and Marco did not, but Marco also did have a glow that basically said, "I got laid." And Mario's limp doesn't make a difference; everyone knows Marco is possessive.  And Marco still is, even in this time.  
  
Marco gently hovers above Mario, and Mario sees the look again--the one where Marco looks at Mario like he's some treasure--and Mario can't take it anymore. He licks his lips again, and watches Marco follow the motion with his eyes. Marco's eyes are dark and filled with want, and Mario feels blood rush directly to his crotch.   
  
" _Take me_ ," he says breathlessly against Marco's mouth. Marco, in turn, rakes his nails across Mario's torso, and slips his shirt over his head. Mario feels Marco's hands on his bare chest, mapping out the lines of muscle, and then Marco's nails scrape a sensitive nipple, and Mario tries his hardest not to whimper.   
  
But he does, and Marco laughs, and kisses him again.  
  
"So impatient," Marco whispers against his lips. "But I'll take care of you."  
  
Mario is about to tell him to _please fuck him_ already when Marco's hands on his chest are replaced by Marco's mouth, and his tongue licks a trail down Mario's torso, bending to dip and suck on his hipbones, and then with one swift motion, Marco pulls down Mario's shorts and boxers and next thing he knows--  
  
Mario feels a _warm, seething heat_ around his dick and his head is thrown back against the pillow, moaning in pleasure as Marco takes him in his mouth, and then Marco does this thing with his tongue and hollows out his cheeks, and Mario is reduced to a big pile of moans and _ahhs and oh yes's,_ and then Marco licks a stripe down him, and then his tongue flicks along him as well, and then Marco has him in his mouth again--Mario sees his orgasm building up, like a flood, and a dam, and there's cracks in the dam--Mario's about to burst, and he's really seeing white now, and his hands find Marco's hair and Mario can only hold on for dear life as Marco sucks hard on his entire length.   
  
"Oh _god_ , Marco, _please just--_ oh, my god yes, Marco--can't--oh god, _Marco I'm_ \--"   
  
Marco hollows his cheeks again, and Mario can't do anything but come so hard that he's muttering nonsense that consists of German, English, and some parts of gibberish, and all throughout this time, Mario isn't thinking about anything but Marco. Marco's mouth, Marco's hands, just Marco in general--and then Mario shudders, twitches, and falls back onto the bed and breathes heavily.  
  
" _God_ , Marco, I can't--"  
  
Marco's mouth slips off him with a loud, wet sound, and only now did Mario realize that Marco had given him a blowjob. _Marco gave him a blowjob_ \--it was the first time. Usually, it's Marco's _ridiculously_ long fingers that curl around Mario and then Mario just needs a few seconds and he's already hard as hell--but the realization that Marco used his mouth this time hits Mario hard, and he begins to blush.  
  
"I'm going to take that you enjoyed it?" Marco asks, a smirk playing along his features. He leans in close to Mario's neck and nuzzles the skin there, and pushes his lips to Mario's collarbone.   
  
"S-shut up," Mario mutters, and looks away. But then Marco crawls up to level his face with Mario's, and Mario stares into Marco's eyes--and both of them reach for one another and kiss again, this time harder, more open mouthed and needy.  
  
Mario feels Marco hard against his thigh, and feels guilty that he can't do anything to help him with it--but Marco's reaching for Mario's wrist, and bringing his hand down to his dick even though Mario probably gives the worst handjobs ever.   
  
"I'm all yours, Liebe," Marco whispers against Mario's lips, and Mario thinks that it's the opposite way around.  
  
He's all Marco's--Marco, who's moaning and sighing even though Mario's sure that his fingers aren't enough. But Marco's enjoying himself, and soon, he comes all over Mario's hand, and Mario laughs as Marco cusses above him. He wiped his hands along the bed sheets, and snuggles close to Marco and holds him tight.  
  
The two stay like that for a while, lazily kissing and talking about things, and eventually, drift off into sleep.   
  
When Mario wakes the next morning, Marco's eyes are looking straight into his, and Mario smiles and leans forward to press their foreheads together.  
  
"Morning," he says, and yawns in Marco's face. "What's up?"  
  
Marco's eyes are glinting, and his hands trail down Mario's back to squeeze the curve of his ass.   
  
"When that ankle of yours heals, I'm going to take you," Marco whispers. His other hand caresses Mario's cheek. "Sleep, Liebe."  
  
And Mario does.  
  
*  
  
The two players wake up in the afternoon to a knock on the door, and after three minutes, the knocking stops, and Mats walks in.  
  
He sees Mario, naked, and an equally naked Marco, both in bed, cuddling, and staring at him. They both blink at him, and Mats just stares, and backs out the door slowly.  
  
Outside, Mats turns, and looks at the rest of the team who is hiding in the hallway.   
  
"I'm scarred for life," Mats says, and they all burst into laughter.   
  
It was going to be a long season.  
  
  


_end_


End file.
